


the wolf and the hound

by metwithdarkness



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, actual wolves, stiles is a borzoi?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 18:54:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metwithdarkness/pseuds/metwithdarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And this is why haphazard running into the woods is not advised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

So the great thing about the woods, Stiles realizes, is that the dirt and leaves aren't nearly as hard on his pads as the pavement is. Hell, the difference is like walking on a cloud - the _dirt_ , he clarifies - and who is he clarifying to, himself? Jesus, he needs someone else to hang out with - and walking on sandpaper. Well, at least that's what it feels like on his poor pawpads. And hey, it sure makes running easier.

Of course, knowing where he is would make it even easier, he thinks, but nothing pops out of the trees to give him directions so he calls it a lost cause and keeps running, because damn does that feel good to his muscles.

He can't really help being hyperactive and needing to run like this - comes with the breed, full package deal, take it or leave it. Most days he'd like to leave it, he can admit to himself, but then he starts running, feels the wind in his fur, laughs at Scott trying to keep up, the poor shepherd, and everything is alright. Times like that, Stiles loves what he is, loves his gangly limbs and his odd gait.

It would be so much easier to love all of that if he weren't seriously lost right now, it really would be. He stops running, panting as he stands between the trees, looking around, trying to find a landmark. No luck, damnit, and all he knows is he's in the preserve somewhere. Like, he hasn't found his way out of the forest _yet_ , so he's definitely not in the _city_.

Wow, definitely not the time to panic. Stiles sits, long legs drawn up under him, and sets in to gnawing on his leg to distract himself while he thinks.

Okay, so, sun over there - it's gotta be afternoon with how long he's been wandering, meaning... _meaning_... yep, still hopelessly lost. He lets out a dramatic sigh and flops to the ground, rolling the dirt and leaves into his brownish-red coat. Might as well at least look like he got stuck in the woods for hours, just so Sheriff doesn't worry - doesn't worry _too_ much.

He's just starting to get to a real good spot on his back, one he can't ever reach on his own, when some instinct tells him he's being stared at. He typically flails, ending up throwing a cloud of dirt and mulch into the air before falling onto his side with an oof and looking around. At the treeline is this huge, dark grey wolf, and it's just staring at him, watching his stupid flailing and back-scratching. He can feel himself blush, but the wolf just keeps staring at him, the thick, darker spots above its red eyes drawn together in a deep frown, and _wow_ , since when do wolves have red eyes?

"So uh, if this is like, your territory or whatever, I can definitely go," Stiles offers, because he honestly can't think of anything else to do and the wolf is still just staring at him. It doesn't answer and he feels even more stupid, so he ducks his head and adds, "Right, well, good talk, nice meeting you, all that good-nature-y stuff, you know, but I got places to be, people to see, who will all miss me if some wolf eats me and - oh god you aren't gonna eat me are you?" And maybe his sudden terror gets across cause the wolf cocks its head and sits, very pointedly, on the ground. Stiles can almost convince his body to stop with the whole flight-mode thing at that and he snaps his muzzle shut, eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment.

"You're trespassing," the wolf says finally, its voice almost blank, and Stiles blushes even more under his fur.

"Yeah, kinda figured that one out, actually, what with the whole 'I'm just going to silently watch and judge your existence for rolling in my dirt' vibe you got going on," Stiles blurts, and holy god can he get any worse. He winces and snaps his damn betraying jaws shut, but the wolf just - it just continues to stare, he can't believe it hasn't tried to kill him yet.

"You shouldn't be here," it tells him, and he could almost swear it sounds amused if he weren't already rolling in his own embarrassment.

"Yeah, dude, I totally get that, I can be so gone, so fast, like - like lightning, I am totally out of here before I say anything else asinine," he says, and winces again because asinine? Seriously? The wolf probably doesn't know what that even means.

Except the wolf just continues to watch him, until he gets uncomfortable and shifts on his paws, and why the hell hasn't he just left yet?

"Are you going or not?" the wolf eventually asks, and Stiles is up on his paws in a flash before hanging his head, and-

"So I'm actually sorta super lost, to be honest, and I'm pretty sure if I just took off, you'd just find me again hours later and I'd be even worse and say something I'll really regret, not that I haven't already, and I really need to just shut up, don't I? Wa- wait, where are you going?"

The wolf looks back at him and snorts. "Leading you out of here, unless you have anything better to do?" it says, and trots off, adding, "Like... roll in my leaves more?"

Stiles gapes - because seriously? Humour? - recovers quickly, and gallops after the wolf. They walk in silence for just about the extent of Stiles' ability to stay silent, but just as he opens his mouth to spout some fact about mushrooms and how they grow out of poop, can you believe that, the wolf angles its head just slightly towards him and says, "You can call me Derek, and then you can continue being quiet until I get you out of my forest."

Stiles grins at that, paws dancing in the leaves, and he says simply, "Stiles," before clamping his mouth shut and loping along beside the wol- Derek.

Half an hour later, Stiles is waxing poetic on the familial habits of crows, watching the birds fly and call above them as his mouth runs completely unchecked. He's so busy talking that he totally misses the small, secretive smile on Derek's wolfy lips.


	2. Chapter 2

"I betcha can't catch me."  
"Stiles. I'm busy. Go bother someone else."  
"What! You're not even doing anything! How are you busy?"  
Derek's ears flatten to his skull but he doesn't move, doesn't even turn to look at Stiles, just continues starting into the dark hole in the roots of the tree in front of him. "I'm _busy_. Go away."  
Stiles does not pout. Not even a little bit. "Deeeereeeek," he whines, dropping into an exasperated play bow and pawing at Derek's fluffy tail. Derek continues to ignore him, but he can see the wolf's ears fit even tighter to his skull and his shoulders tense. So of course he keeps it up, even going so far as to roll over on his back and 'accidentally' roll straight into Derek's side, but the wolf just grunts and shoves him off.  
"Stiles, I swear to god, if you don't leave me alone I'm going to tear your throat out." Stiles huffs. "With my _teeth_."  
"What are you even doing?"  
A huge, long-suffering sigh blows out of Derek's lungs. "That's a rabbit den," he says simply, like Stiles is just supposed to understand, and - oh. _Oh_.  
"You're gonna eat them?" Stiles asks, and his voice totally doesn't waiver. Nope.  
Derek finally swings his broad head around to look at Stiles and his eyebrow spots are drawn together in a heavy glare. "Not anymore," he grumps, "You probably scared everything away for miles around with your chatter. Good job. Now leave me alone."  
Stiles' mouth drops open in understanding. "That was your _food_ ," he says, and Derek grunts from where he's all but disappeared into the forest. "Hey wait! I'll catch you something!" Derek snorts derisively and Stiles frowns. "Hey, don't knock my hunting skills till you see them, mister Big Bad," he mutters.  
"There's nothing left _to_  catch, but you are certainly welcome to try," Derek tells him in that deadpan voice of his, and Stiles grimaces, head rearing up proudly.  
"Fine, I will!" he shouts, but Derek has already disappeared into the trees. "Stupid sourwolf," he grumbles to himself as he pads off.

\--------------------

The next day, Derek is surprised to find a rabbit outside the small den he's been inhabiting, but then again, he thinks, it _is_  Stiles.

**Author's Note:**

> What am I doing with my life. Seriously.  
> I keep reading all these stories where Stiles is some little terrier thing and while that's adorably him in one way, I kept thinking that a lanky, long-legged thing made more sense (to me at least xD) so I guess stiles is a borzoi? Because borzois are also called Russian wolfhounds xD  
> And Scott is an Anatolian shepherd dog even though he's not exactly in it?


End file.
